


Red Suits You

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-03
Updated: 1999-05-03
Packaged: 2018-11-11 02:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser is shot and Thatcher and Ray have to join forces to find the suspect.





	Red Suits You

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Red Suits You

Ok, a little bird nagged me into getting this posted (wave to Seah)! 

Standard Disclaimer: Only the story is mine. Fraser, Vecchio, and Thatcher don't belong to me. They belong to Alliance, and I'm returning them not much the worse for wear. Please don't print or copy this except for your personal use, and please don't send it anywhere without my permission. Hope you enjoy it, and I'd love to hear your comments. (Well, most of them anyway.) 

*** *** *** *** *** 

# Red Suits You

by RBHoffman 

Constable Benton Fraser was driving Inspector Margaret Thatcher to yet another late dinner party. So far, everything was going smoothly, unlike some other evenings, and Thatcher's makeup and hair were perfect when she stepped into the back seat. She took a quick look in her tiny mirror and then, satisfied, she sat back and stared out the window, apparently lost in thought, her cloak and scarf muting the impact of her usual low cut evening wear. Fraser said nothing, glancing back only occasionally in the rear view mirror. He attention was primarily engaged with trying to find a parking spot. Traffic was not heavy, but parking was scarce, and Fraser was determined to obey all legal restrictions. 

A dark sedan approached from behind and began to pass, and Fraser had time to notice that the driver was exceeding the speed limit as well as passing illegally. Then the car was alongside the consulate vehicle, moving even faster, as several shots blazed out from the passing car before it sped away. 

Fraser grabbed at his head with one hand, and tried to follow, but when he lost sight of the car he pulled over, bending over the wheel in pain. Thatcher was just beginning to ask why he had stopped, when she realized that he was injured. She jumped from her seat in the back and opened the driver's door, checking Fraser's pulse calmly. 

"How badly are you injured?" 

Fraser, pressing a handkerchief to his forehead, replied that the bullet merely grazed his head. "I'm afraid I've lost sight of the suspect's vehicle," he said ruefully, "but I can continue the search. Or would you like me to drive you back to the dinner party?" 

"Don't be an idiot, Fraser, move over," Thatcher re- plied, and shooed him over to the passenger seat, taking the wheel herself, "I'll drive." 

"Understood." 

"Now, where did you last see the car heading?" As she drove, Thatcher began to think out loud about the case. "The car's license plate was obscured, and the shooter was in the dark. He picked his time to strike well, out of the range of streetlights; I couldn't make him out at all. That means all we've got to go on is the model of the car, an old Mercury. A Monarch, if I'm not mistaken, and the rear bumper was hanging loose on the passenger side of the vehicle. And then there was that unpleasant, fruity odor emanating from the car... Did you get anything else, Fraser? Fraser?" As she turned to look at her deputy, she realized that he had passed out, and a closer look revealed that he had apparently lost quite a bit of blood. 

Thatcher checked the rear view quickly, and then equal- ly quickly stepped on the brake pedal. At the sudden stop, Fraser pitched forward and his head hit the dash. Swearing, Thatcher pulled him back into his seat, checked his pulse once again, and examined his wound. As she yanked off her delicate scarf and tied it tightly around his head, she kept up a steady stream of words, reprimanding him quietly. His offenses included underestimating the seriousness of his injuries, and failing to fasten his seat belt upon moving to the passenger seat of the car, thus causing her to endanger the well-being of a member of her staff by engaging in a fruitless chase when he should be on his way to the hospital. 

*** *** *** *** *** 

Detective Ray Vecchio burst into the hospital emergency waiting area, and found Inspector Thatcher answering questions from two uniformed officers. Vecchio brushed them aside, demanding to be told what had happened, and whether Benny was ok. Thatcher looked at him coolly. 

"Constable Fraser sustained a minor injury in a drive- by shooting. He's had a few stitches and is being kept for a day or two because he lost more blood than he could easily spare." 

"Alright, stay here," Vecchio responded, "I'll be right back. Where is he?" 

Ray headed off in the direction Thatcher indicated, and in Fraser's room, he found his friend tired and pale. His head had been stitched and bandaged, and an IV was replacing lost fluid. Ben explained with obvious regret about the loss of consciousness in the car, but assured Ray that he was well, though weak as a kitten. He asked to see Inspector Thatcher. 

The Inspector had been waiting just outside the open door, and she entered almost immediately. Despite her evening dress she seemed businesslike as she opened the conversation. "Constable Fraser, it appears you will suffer no long term affects from tonight's shooting, despite your insistence that you were fit to travel when you were in fact experiencing sufficient blood loss to render you unconscious shortly after we began our investigation." 

"What? Are you kidding me?" erupted from an astonished Ray, but Fraser silenced him with a glance. 

"It was an unfortunate miscalculation, Sir. I appar- ently estimated the rate of blood loss incorrectly, and can only assume that the force of the glancing blow I took from the bullet resulted in a very temporary higher rate of bleeding which had subsided by the time I made my examina- tion to determine my fitness for duty. I assure you that it will not happen again." 

"Understood," Thatcher nodded. 

Ray, still amazed, looked from one to another, "He just got shot!" 

"Yes, Ray." 

"Yes, Detective Vecchio." 

"Inspector, before I lost consciousness, indeed, just as the car was passing our vehicle, I detected a strong, and ... unusual odor, emanating, I believe, from the same car from which the shots were fired." 

"Did you see the shooter?" Ray asked. 

Thatcher and Fraser responded in unison, "It was too dark." 

Thatcher continued, "I detected the odor as well; did you recognize it?" 

"No, although it smelled a bit like _woodbine passion- atus_," Fraser replied. "But I believe that grows only at low elevations in the southern portion of the Territories." 

"Very similar, but I believe it may actually have been something a bit more common. I've smelled that fragrance before. One of our file clerks was wearing it the day you first reported back to work after Detective Vecchio shot you." 

"Ah. I believe that file clerk is no longer with the consulate?" 

"Correct." 

"Sorry, folks," interjected a nurse who has entered the room, "Mr. Fraser needs to get some rest now. You can come back in the morning." 

"Ok. I'll be back in the morning to see how you're doing, Benny," Ray assured the weary patient. 

Thatcher merely nodded to Fraser as Vecchio began to ask her more questions about the shooting and the file clerk. "Maybe we can put something together with this," he said as they left the room. 

*** *** *** *** *** 

Much later, the Inspector reentered the semi-dark room just as a nurse was leaving. The nurse started to shoo Thatcher from the room, but seeing her worried expression, and the wrinkled evening dress she still wore, she patted her shoulder kindly instead. "Hey there, it's ok now! He'll be as fine as ever in a day or two! Just let him go on sleeping." 

As Thatcher turned to face her, biting gently on her lower lip, the nurse invited her to sit and spend some more time with him. "Now don't worry, you're not going to lose your gentleman." 

At this, Inspector Thatcher drew herself into a frosty pose, somewhat incongruous in one rather seductively dressed, and cleared her throat. "I am his superior officer, nothing more." 

The nurse looked from Thatcher's face to her still blood-stained clothes and plunging neckline. One eyebrow was disappearing beneath her bangs, but she only responded "of course ma'am," and left the room, looking decidedly unconvinced. 

For another moment she maintained her poise, and then Thatcher sank into the chair by the bed, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. Lifting Fraser's hand in hers, she stroked the back of it gently, assuring herself that it was warm and that his muscle tone was still good; she pinched the skin briefly to check for dehydration. She gazed at the hand she held for a few minutes more, thinking how different it seemed without its usual strength. Then, glancing down at her clothes, she placed his hand gently on the blanket. Finally, she gave herself a bit of a shake and got to her feet. Ben's eyes opened very slightly when she rose, and he watched her silently as she walked out, his expression unreadable. 

*** *** *** *** *** 

The next day Ray and Thatcher continued to investigate the case. The car was found abandoned in an alley by an old warehouse which had been searched, but no other clues turned up there. However, the ex-file clerk was nowhere to be found; no one knew where she was, or exactly how long she'd been gone. Ray visited the hospital twice to tell Benny how the investigation was going, but Thatcher did not return, and Fraser did not ask about her. 

Two days after the shooting, Thatcher, dressed more casually than usual in slacks and jacket of the same gray color as Ray's suit, sat across from Ray at his desk. As usual, Ray was talking. 

"Ok. So I've got the statement from the secretary's neighbor. Seems he was in Aspen for a day or two, but he's back now. He says he overheard an argument between her and her boyfriend. And get this: it was something about a big obsession and some Mickey Mouse in red. And it looks like our nutso Mountie hunter disappeared the same day." 

"File clerk." 

"Huh?" 

"Tupper was a file clerk, not a secretary, Detective. I didn't fire my secretary." Even as Thatcher automatically corrected Vecchio it was clear her mind was already moving ahead, working out the possibilities. 

As Fraser approached his friend's desk he overheard the end of their conversation. He cleared his throat and Ray and Thatcher turned together to face him. 

"Benny, they let you out! Are you feeling ok?" 

"Constable Fraser, are you ready to return to duty?" 

"Yes, Ma'am, Ray. I've been given the go-ahead from the doctor and I'm feeling fine." 

"Well then, you may as well hear the latest theory too. Go ahead, Detective." 

Ray launched into an explanation, but cautioned that at this point they weren't exactly sure who was responsible for the shooting. "But however we figure it, it looks like it was no accident that you were the one to get hit in the drive-by." 

Thatcher took up the story at this point. "Tupper may have been kidnapped..." 

"Her apartment was trashed," Ray interrupted. 

"... out of jealousy by her boyfriend, after an argu- ment about her obsession with you. Or she may have willing- ly gone with him and even committed the crime herself, feeling scorned," Thatcher finished, looking straight into Fraser's eyes. 

"Ah. Obsession. With me?" 

"Why should she be different from every other female who gets an eyeful of you and that suit?" Ray asked in disgust. Thatcher gave Ray a glacial look but then turned an inquiring eye back on Fraser. 

Ben was prepared, however. "There may be a flaw in this theory, Ray, Inspector. Ms. Tupper barely knew me. She was hired only a short time before my injury, which is why I was unable to identify her perfume. She, uh, left the very day I returned to the consulate." 

"He's right, Detective, her tenure with us was very short. It was quite dark; could Fraser have been mistaken for Constable Turnbull?" 

Ben looked innocently from one to the other, but Ray rolled his eyes. "Always, it's the suit." 

Looking at his watch, Ray turned again to Fraser. "Look, we're up for stakeout duty over at the boyfriend's. Why don't you come along, Benny?" 

*** *** *** *** *** 

The windows were down and all three were quiet as Ray drove them in the Riv, each working over the details of the case, thinking of possible motives. But as they neared the house, Thatcher and Ben went into action. "Wait, that's it," Thatcher hissed, sniffing the air. "Cut the engine." 

Ben, climbing from the back seat, was only a moment behind her, jumping out of the still rolling car as soon as Ray shut off the engine and lights. As they stalked the scent, Ray followed, bewildered, sniffing in vain for a clue. Taking different, silent routes around a stand of bushes, Thatcher and Ben surprised a tearful, shaken woman hiding there. 

"Tupper!" 

"We've been looking for you." 

The woman tried to make a break for it, but Ray cut her off. "Hold it right there!" 

Tupper sniveled and shook some more, moving away from Thatcher towards Ben, and looking at the Inspector with a great deal of venom. Thatcher returned her gaze curiously, and Tupper snarled and spat out just one word, "You!" 

When Ray asked her why she was lurking in the bushes she responded with more angry glances at Thatcher. "I'm hiding out from that jerk, Jack Fleming. Ever since he missed the dragon lady here he's been getting uglier by the minute." 

"What does the dragon lady have to do with this?" Ray wanted to know, but Benny interrupted him. 

"Ms. Tupper, where is Fleming now?" 

*** *** *** *** *** 

Back at the consulate the following day, Ray was finishing his explanation to Thatcher. "It seems her boyfriend just got tired of listening to her complain about getting fired. He must have figured you for wearing the suit around here too, since you're a Mountie and all," he chuckled. "So he decided to do something about it. Figured he'd shoot you, take off for a few days, and she'd get over it. But when he hit Benny instead, and she kept on complaining, he just got madder. She jumped out of the car as they were heading home and I think he figured good riddance. We've got them both in custody and they can't point fingers at each other fast enough. This one'll stick easy. What a pair! Frankly, Inspector, it's easy to see why you cut her loose as soon as..." 

"Thank you, Detective. We appreciate the update. I believe that Constable Fraser has a report of his own to complete as well." 

Ray took the hint, and with a final farewell to Benny, left the consulate. 

As Thatcher returned her attention to her desk, Ben cleared his throat, and drawing a slim box from behind his back, he presented it to the Inspector without flourish. Thatcher looked at it with suspicion, and reluctantly opened it. She removed a long, sheer scarf of red silk. Her eyes lifted to meet Fraser's and she looked a question; he, however, was staring straight ahead. "I understand, Ma'am ... that is, Ray informed me that your own scarf was ruined on the night of the shooting. I'm sure you would rather have that one returned to you, but as that does not seem to be possible at this time ..." For a moment he dropped his gaze to the bit of silk she was holding, and then he met her eyes. 

"Red suits you." 

The End 

Robin rbhoff@ix.netcom.com NJ, USA 

* * *


End file.
